How many times… 

I tried so many times. I tried to say no. I tried begging him to stop. I didn’t want too. I wasn’t in the mood. Why wasn’t any of that enough? 
Beginning of my first official “adult” summer. I had just turned 18 and was invited to my very first party ever. This guy that I liked invited me. I walked in thinking I was hot shit, yet feeling isolated and alone. I didn’t know anyone. 
I drank until I could speak. That was MY mistake. 
I trusted you to help take care of me. That was also MY mistake. 
You kissed me. I kissed back. That was nice, but you wanted more. I was too drunk. I tried to push you off of me. You whispered that it was okay. Luckily people came around the corner and pulled you off. Luckily it didn’t go farther than my hands being held down, but still I felt confused. I felt ashamed. 
I drank even more. I passed out. I fucked up. 
Woke up the next morning with a throbbing head and glimpses of memories from the previous night. Luckily those strangers that you introduced me too turned to friends. Luckily they saw you enter the room I was passed out in. Luckily they stopped you for a second time that night. 
I heard what happened while I was sleeping. 
I felt…






And for the first time in a long time I felt vulnerable. I hated those feelings. I hated you for those feelings. I hated myself for feeling anything at all. That entire summer I drank away the pain. I drugged myself until I felt better. I made myself forget you ever happened. Only for it to repeat a few years later. 
I’m in my first ever “real” relationship. I lived with you. I wanted this to be forever. You refused to let me in. I refused to give up. I wanted my love to out weigh your toxic behavior.
The bar was open 24/7, and you thought I was too. I heard my self saying no constantly. I told you I needed sleep. I convinced myself that if I really loved you it didn’t matter what I wanted. 
The word no slowly turned into my silence. The phrase not right now turned into if you drank less then sure. It was always a business transaction. Toward the end I needed to run away. I moved several times during those long 9 months. Never fully unpacking my bags. Always ready with a backup place to live. Always ready to jump ship, just in case. 
I can’t seem to make myself forget. 
I feel…






And i have finally broken the notion that I am a whore. For the longest time I was told that because I sleep with so many people no one can cherish me. I’ve been told because I give myself up freely, so no one will love me. I’m finding it hard to love myself. I give myself up because it’s the little bit of control that I do have. If you won’t listen to the word no, then I’ll simply PRETEND it was my choice to say yes. 
I’ve given myself to men. I’ve given myself to women. I’ve given my self to everyone. Anyone and everyone can have a turn, but my emotions are mine. I refuse to open up, to only be treated like “the whore I am”. If I’m going to be called a whore I may as well act the part. 
I’m starting to treat myself with respect. I’m starting to know better. I’m starting to deal with these emotions. Writing these memories brought me to tears. It’s still too real for me. It’s still to present. 
How can I let go of something that shaped so much of me? How can I apologize when hate myself for letting it get that far? How can I let them go when I can’t make you acknowledge what you did? How many times must i utter the words until you listen? How many times must I shake my head until you see? How many times must I lay on my back for you to love me? Just how many times…
The pain is still here, but I’m learning to grow. 
These questions are for you. This paragraph is for you. I let you go. I vanish you from my thoughts. I release you from the harm. I must live thru each day. Each day I get a little bit stronger. A little bit further away. I little bit happier. 

As I stated before I’m trying really hard to be open and honest with my readers. This is part of my journey. I know I’m not the ONLY one who has gone thru this. I know I’m not the only person to accuse someone from the “rave house” circa 2011/2012. If anyone ever wants to talk reach out. 
Men can also be raped, and just because your together with someone does NOT mean your voice is too be silenced. 
How many times should you say the word NO? 
Only once. 
PLUR Regards,

Tyler Hurt



One thought on “How many times… 

  1. Slut, whore, promiscuous- call it what you want but it’s all an attempt to impose someone else’s views on yourself. In your case it appears nothing like love. Recently my husband shared a creative writing piece called, What Love is Not. The paragraph that sticks with me goes, “Love is all selflessness. It’s the opposite of need and attachment. To an individual it’s a sensation of allowing, rather than seeking. Letting go, rather than grasping.
    Love is subtle and silent and delicate, and in its beginnings it can be drowned out easily by attachment, lust and fear. Love must have space, and force is whatcrowds it out. Love is powerful but it isn’t forceful.”

    Read the whole thing here.


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